The Legend of Spyro: Lingering Shadows
by GoldenGriffiness
Summary: The relieved pair rejoin the guardians in Warfang, but the respite they deserve is fleeting. Shadows from Cynder's past return to haunt her as Spyro's dark side begins to gain power,and new Dragoness Simmer is determined to create a rift between hero's. (Likely permanent hiatus)
1. Prologue

**~Prologue~**

Spyro looked around, a chill creeping up his spine. He thought vaguely that he must be dreaming – no place this bizarre could exist in the waking realm, could it?

He was in a great expanse of grey; thick, cold, grey mist clung to everything and felt heavy in his lungs. He certainly couldn't fly in the stuff. He felt almost like he was using dragon time – trying to move through thick molasses.

'_Where am I?_' He wondered, shivering. Ahead, just vaguely, he thought he saw something – a great shadow.

'…' a voice hissed on the breeze.

The young dragon went rigid – he knew that voice. It was cold, deep and calculating as Death itself. He backed up quickly, squinting at the shadow ahead. '_Is it? It can't be… He's dead. The ancestors killed him! Was everything for nothing?_'

A cold chuckle echoed around as the shape crept closer, slinking like a great cat on the prowl. The grey around it began to shade to purple, but it wasn't Spyro's royal purple. It was a dark murky shade, a color that looked like it had never before seen the light of the sun.

Spyro tried to back up again, but suddenly it was like he was trapped in a nightmare. His paws refused to be shifted, even as he tried to force them to move.

'You cannot escape me,' the malicious voice seemed to reverberate through Spyro's very being. As the thing grew closer, Spyro finally got a good look at it. It looked to his eyes like a great shadow, darkening the murky purple mist around it.

"No," Spyro whimpered as the chill seemed to seep into his very soul. He glanced down in horror to see his paws had sunk into the floor, which looked for all the world like a grey storm cloud.

Spyro looked at the great specter before him. It was of a murky purple substance that seemed to leave its form in wisps, to reveal blackness darker than hate. Little more than a silhouette, the shape slunk forward. Two glowing white eyes seemed to bore down upon him, staring into his very soul.

At this point, Spyro had sunk down to his knees. In terror, he desperately leaned back as far as he could, away from the imposing figure as it lowered its long head down towards him. The figure circled the purple dragon, who turned his head sharply, desperately trying to keep the strange spirit in his line of vision.

The creature couldn't be called a dragon; maybe he was once, but not anymore. Hell knows what he was now, but whatever it was, it was no dragon.

'You did this,' the bitter voice growled, 'you meddled with things beyond your comprehension and now you will pay the price.'

The cold intensified as the spirit paced back to stand in front of the purple dragon. Spyro eyed it apprehensively and tried to shoot a beam of convexity from his maw – but nothing emerged from between his white fangs. He tried again with fire, but with the same result – nothing.

'Fool. You cannot use your powers here.' The great shadow crouched in preparation to leap at the younger dragon, who shrunk back in terror. Spyro closed his eyes as the thing crouched, the white light from its eyes intensifying so greatly that it numbed him.

The beast leapt at him, and everything faded into shadow.

**(AN)**

**GG: MWAHAHAHA! Evil, aren't I? Finally Shadows is getting its revamp, hopefully it'll be a large improvement over the original. I still have the rather complex plotline memorized somehow… **

**Also, I would like to dedicate this prologue to the over eighty people killed in Norway a few days ago, may they rest in peace.**

**I would also like to thank Riverstyxx for agreeing to beta this, even with her insane schedule. **

**Thank you so much for reading, reviews would make me incredibly happy, and when I'm happy I tend to update much quicker.**

**~GoldenGriffiness~**


	2. Zephra

**~Zephra~**

The young dragon jolted up with a terrified cry, his body shaking heavily. He looked around frantically to find himself in a small, marble room. He shuddered and rested his head on his forepaws; his breathing and heart rate finally slowing after a few minutes.

Spyro glanced around the room he was in. It was windowless with what seemed to be white marble walls, reminding him of Warfang. There was a single, heavy wooden door, sturdily hinged and made of ancient weathered cedar.

It was nothing like the grey expanse he had been in moments ago. Had it been a dream? It had seemed so eerily real…

The purple dragon shivered and curled up again wretchedly, too dazed to think of anything else, closing his eyes once more. He drifted off again, still twitching with the occasional shake or shiver.

A few moments later, a green dragoness rushed into the room, followed by a small yellow blur. The sleek 'green' looked down at Spyro, worry etched into her emerald eyes. She placed one forepaw on the purple's forehead and sighed with relief. Though still damp with sweat, the sleek scales were no longer warmer than they should have been under the pad of her paw. He'd been pushing a high fever since she'd awoken in the rubble that was all that remained of the temple.

Cynder sighed, closing her eyes, remembering.

The black dragoness cracked her eyes open, barely. Her throat felt like fire, and every other part of her body felt as cold as ice. Something was pushing down on her, slowly crushing her body, robbing her lungs of air. In her dazed, half-awake state, Cynder realized she couldn't move an inch.

Her eyes snapped shut suddenly as they stung with grit, eliciting pained tears from between her tightly closed eyelids. Desperately, she tried to paw at her eyes to rid them of the dirt that was blinding her, but realized with a jolt of horror that she couldn't. It felt like her paw was buried in a hard gritty substance, pinned down. Panic rose in her chest; she felt as though she couldn't breathe.

Too confused and terrified to think straight, she tried to call out.

"Sp-!" but she broke off as dirt filled her maw. She gagged it out a moment later, doing her best not to inhale more of the stuff.

Cynder experimented with lifting her head, and was grateful when it didn't take much to find air.

'_Where am I?_' She wondered. Light burned her eyes when she opened them, blinking away the grit. She squeezed her eyes shut again, wiggling her body slightly to see what was mobile and what wasn't. She seemed to be trapped under something large; well most of her body was covered in rubble.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Cynder tried opening her eyes again, only to squint. The light was painfully bright on her sore irises.

Still squinting, Cynder called out, "Spyro?"

No answer.

"Spyro! Where are you?"

Cynder opened her eyes fully and stubbornly kept them open, even as they got the full blast of a bright midday sun. After waiting a few minutes, during which her eyes adjusted, she got a good look at her surroundings.

A sharp pain stung her heart when she realized she was in the temple – or the little that was left of it. The once beautiful building looked like hell. The ceiling was all but gone and, along with the topmost section of the walls, seemed to be responsible for the majority of the debris and shattered stone that had her trapped. One pillar rested atop her back; she would be dead and gone if another broken pillar hadn't been on her other side, holding most of its weight.

She looked around frantically, '_Where is he?_'

All she could see was muted grayish and brown tones, none of the bright amethyst she hoped for.

Turning her head around as far as possible, she felt momentary relief when she caught a flash of gold on the edge of her vision, only to growl in disappointment when she saw it was part of a shattered vase. After a few moments of looking around, she spotted a gleam of dull purple.

Her heart lurched. There he was; no wonder she hadn't noticed him easily… His usual amethyst had faded to dull muted purple – no darker than ash. His gold stomach and horns seemed to have lost their luster as well.

Luckily, the purple dragon wasn't trapped like she was, though it didn't look like he'd be getting up any time soon. The state he was in pained her heart. His chest rose and fell steadily enough, so she knew he was okay for now.

Time passed and darkness fell. Cynder had even drifted to sleep once, after exhausting herself trying to struggle out from under the pillar. Try as she might, she could only clear away the smaller bits of rubble around her. Her belly was pushed against the cool stone floor of the temple, so there was no widening the gap. She dare not go as far as blasting the thing, as that would surely cause large chunks of it to fall on top of her.

After waking up and another good hour of struggle, she cursed and laid her chin on her forepaws, breathing heavily. This was getting her nowhere fast. She had already tried slipping into her own shadow, but found her elemental energy completely depleted. She was tired, hungry, scared to death that, without help, Spyro wouldn't make it and even a bit claustrophobic for her current position. Her whole body ached from the weeks of stress and little sleep she had gone through.

Cynder sighed before drifting back into sleep.

The next few hours had passed quietly; Cynder had almost been content as everything started to haze over. They had done it, and that was enough to satisfy her for now. She'd already accepted death. Ancestors knew she'd certainly had enough terror and hardship for a lifetime; the silence and stillness seemed almost a condolence to her. She was too tired to be afraid anymore. Thinking the end was near, the beautiful dragoness had laid her head on her forepaws with silent dignity as she felt herself fazing into blackness.

Cynder's eyes blinked open to find herself in someplace else, surrounded by blue mist. In front of her stood a sleek, black dragoness, who towered over her. The dragoness looked identical to herself in the years she that had spent under Malefor's maniacal control, but Cynder found herself unafraid. This dragon lacked any malice in her eyes, which were an incredible ocean blue rather than the sickly yellow slits that Cynder's had once been. The dragoness also lacked Cynder's silver set of a necklace, anklets and a tail ring, as well as the ripped and ragged wings Cynder had once been forced into.

The dragoness had an air of kindness and pureness Cynder's dark side had certainly lacked, though coupled with a sense of overall sadness that Cynder recognized all too well.

"Who are you?" Cynder whispered, in awe as the dragoness stepped forward with all the grace of a queen.

"You may call me Zephra," the black dragoness whispered in a voice that sounded ancient and wise, but so sad. Then she shook her head to clear it, "but that is not important, what is important now is that you continue fighting. Help will arrive sooner than you think, and the purple one needs you, now more than ever."

"I don't understand, isn't it over?" Cynder looked at the strange apparition, the ghost of tears appearing in her emerald orbs, "haven't we done enough?"

The spirit sighed, "I cannot answer that question, though I have spent what seems to be a millennia trying. What you do is your choice, and whether it is worth your effort or not is your own decision to make. Nobody can make it for you. I cannot foretell what the future holds for you -or for anyone, but I believe there is a chance that, one day, peace will come. A new age has begun, young one. No one can foretell what it holds in entirety, but I do know this of life – someone dear to me said this many a time: It will go on."

Cynder nodded, straightening herself, "As will I. I don't know who," – '_or what'_ she added mentally – "you are, but thank you."

The dragon dipped her head and her silvery markings seemed to flash, "Are you ready to return?"

Cynder gave a strong nod, "Yes."

The mirage of a realm faded and Cynder cracked her eyes open, the usual gleam of determination returned to them.

"Thank you," she whispered in her cracked and sore voice, "Zephra."

After that, time had passed in a blur. Cynder had been drifting in and out of sleep; she barely remembered the search party finding them, or being carried back to Warfang. The only part of it she remembered in the haze had been the relief of the cool wind on her face, whipping around her lithe form.

**(AN)**

**Yes, the prologue was just a fever-dream, or waaaassss it? Was there any meaning behind it?**

**I would like to dedicate this chapter to… My cat Nikki Marie, who's just starting to perk up after a bit of anemia. Somehow I didn't find those fleas… I still feel very guilty about missing them, and it's a bit of a hard reminder that she is pretty darn old for a cat. She's now on food that's high in iron, and additional wet food and seems better than ever! Thank god…**

**I would like to thank Son of the Sea 100897 for being the first reviewer and, as always, Riverstyxx for being the best Beta ever! *shows Live-Long-and-Prosper sign* **

**(Even though I'm not a fan of the original Star trek…)**

**Yes, Cyn is green, that will be explained next chapter unless something weird comes up, so don't ask. Also, Sparx and Cynder were willingly traveling even a short distance to the same place? O.o It's the Apocalypse…**

**Okay, now that's out of my system… We meet Zephra! And I'm going to say this now: she is NOT related to Cynder in any biologic way. In fact, anyone who can figure out WHY she looks like Cynder and doesn't already know will get a lovely E-care package.**

**So, reviews make my day and I love hearing theories on my plotline more than anything.**

**Finally, thank you to the five who have reviewed, I send thee E-hugs!**

**That's right! E-HUGS! XD**

**That's all for now! ^.^**

**~GGN~**


	3. The Altering Stone

**~The Altering Stone~**

Cynder had woken not long after to find herself in the dragon city, and had been called into council with the guardians. She lapsed back into her memory.

Cynder had sighed after recounting to the guardians Ignitus' fate, and glanced sadly at her paws, waiting for their reaction.

For the next few minutes, grim silence reigned over the three guardians; they weren't sure what to say. Of the guardians, Ignitus had been a sort of loadstone. Now, without him, the others seemed lost and sad.

That was her impression of the matter, anyway. She hadn't really had that much time with the guardians; Spyro was the one who was closer to Ignitus. Cynder had become convinced a long time ago that the red guardian had been as good as the purple's father. Thinking of the relationship between the two sent a painful twinge of jealousy through Cynder's chest, but she quickly dismissed it.

Terrador was the first to speak, though his face certainly displayed the most pain of the three. "Ignitus was a true friend, but now is not the time for grief," he stated, gruffly, "Ignitus would not want us to focus on the past, but what is to come. When the time comes we will celebrate his memory with all the grace and dignity he deserves. But until then, we must carry on."

Cynder continued to study her obsidian paws as she finished the recollection. Terrador stopped the other two with glances whenever they tried to interrupt – for which she was grateful. Once she had informed them of all that had occurred – with the sole exceptions of her final words before the realm was healed, and her brief foray into darkness – she stared at her forepaws once more. She felt a bit awkward with the guardians; usually she had let Spyro talk.

The black dragoness still felt a lingering chill of unease around the three – relic of a past life. And occasionally, she still dreamed of a time when she was huge, when the poison of hate ran deep in her veins and she ruled under a master she didn't know, yet followed blindly in a haze of confusion and rage.

What scared her most was the savage pleasure of those memory-dreams – all the power rushing through her veins; it had been exhilarating. She didn't remember her past life except for those fleeting glimpses, for which she was grateful.

She nodded silently to Terrador and silence held reign for a while, until Cynder remembered, "Will Spyro be alright? What's wrong with him?"

"I believe that all the stress on Spyro's magical ability began to have an effect on his overall physical welfare, there as his body was put under an expediential amount of stress, therefore lowering the defense capabilities of his immune system. Also, since scales often reflect the current state of a dragon's magic, the bleaching affect may stem from him expending more magic than he should have, such as occurred after his initial battle with you. That is, to a copiously greater scale, of course."

"Of course," a snide voice echoed, and a golden form fluttered up, "How come no one bothered to tell _me_ they were back? I'm Spyro's freakin' brother; I think I deserve to know what's going on! But _noooooooooo_; no need to tell the little guy what's going on!"

Terrador shot a questioning glance at Cyril, "Didn't I ask you to inform Sparx personally? What happened?"

Cyril fidgeted a bit, looking uncomfortable, "I did not have the time. I sent my new apprentice, Snowstorm; the message must not have gone through."

Terrador sighed, "Cyril, think. The girl's nice, but her memory isn't the best." Judging from his tone, Cynder deducted it was _far_ from the best.

Cyril looked away, giving a half-hearted snort that made a small cloud of mist filter from his nostrils and sparkle in the air. His usual attempt at making himself appear above the world rather fell flat with the air of sorrow permeating the air around him like a thick fog, and the sparkle of unshed tears in his cerulean eyes. "I…was trying to find a way to track him at the time…"

"I suppose…we have other things to think of…" Volteer said, sensing Ignitus's name on the air. Without him the heart of the group seemed to have been torn out, leaving only a tattered and bloody hole in its wake.

Cynder shifted her weight from forepaw to forepaw, "What now?"

"Well, young dragoness," Cyril said after sighing heavily, "For one, there is _you_ to think of. I'm regretful to say that you may be in danger here. Since Malefor's fall, dragons have been immigrating here from all over. Unfortunately, many of them refuse to trust you even now, so having you walk the streets may be problematic."

"Yes, and because of these situations I have created a device that will help to hide your identity," Volteer cut in. He pulled out a small chain with a clear crystal hanging on it, "When you wear this, your scales will shift to the natural appearance of a dragon that solely controls one of your elements. Your scales would be veiled in that color and only those who can recognize you by bodily attributes will know you. We trust many in this city, but you should wear this whenever going anywhere with a great deal of pedestrians."

Cynder took the stone and eyed it unhappily. It was cool and smooth in her grip, but the aura of the pendant sent a cold tingle up her spine. She didn't really have a choice though and nervously slipped it over her head, where it came to rest around the base of her neck. Warmth spread from the chain and her beautiful scales lightened, becoming a pastel green. Her stomach acquired more of a purple tinge and her horns became more tan than white. Even her body shape changed slightly, becoming sturdier, and her horns became a tad thicker. Only her eyes gave her away – the same fiery green they'd been since Spyro had freed her.

Far away, a blue dragoness leapt from a tree, spreading wings that had no blades, but thin silky amethyst-purple feathers in their place. Despite the feathers, her wings were still webbed. The lean dragoness glided for a moment on the air currents, before losing balance and crashing into the earth. She growled a curse-word and stood up, shaking grit out of the feathered Mohawk that stretched from her forehead to about halfway down her tail.

On either side of her two, stubby, gold goat-like horns, two feathered ear-like appendages grew from her head. Her scales were a pure shade of light sapphire and changed to a pale off-white color on her underbelly. Strange pink eyes contrasted against her blue face.

The dragoness grumbled, glaring at the ground, and released a blast of strange power from her maw. It was like a ball of grey mist, but when it hit the ground it exploded with such a force that her own attack knocked her back to the ground, sprawling. Muttering profanities – curses from multiple languages – she slunk back into the forest.

The fan of dark purple feathers at the end of her tail dragged in the dirt, creating shallow furrows in the earth. The blue dragoness glanced at her wings, like they were some sort of deformity. Perhaps she thought they were.

**Aaaannnnndddd CUT! Hello mysterious dragoness, who's name isn't to be revealed yet. I'm not entirely pleased with this, but oh well. I am happy with introducing this mysterious dragoness though! Who might she be? =D Today reviews will get E-spirit gems, so hurry before I'm out! XD Oh, Cynder's green-ness has been explained. Happy? Tell me! IN A REVIEW! Please? *puppy eyes***

**And this chap is dedicated to my friend Silverspiritowl, who helped with the creation of this strange dragoness.**


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